


to happily-ever-after

by annperkinsface



Category: Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 11:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13029822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annperkinsface/pseuds/annperkinsface
Summary: “Hullo.” There’s white powder streaking over the side of her face. Michael stares and stares, knowing at best he is being impolite and at worst being creepy, but she pushes some of that dark hair behind her ear and his heart leaps, lodging itself somewhere in his throat. “Welcome to Cesari’s.”And just like that, suddenly, with no warning, the course of his life changes; Michael feels it down to his bones, with all the resonance of a plucked chord, and he’s thrumming, thrumming, thrumming, all to her eyes and smile and small, clever hands.





	to happily-ever-after

Michael’s secret sweet tooth brings him to Cesari’s on a Tuesday. He’s been nursing it since he went from being homeless to the apprentice of the most ridiculous wizard in Ingary. Not enough to put them in financial straits—Howl is doing that just fine on his own, Michael thinks, trying to cover his own guilt with mulishness—but every once in awhile he’ll pocket gold for a spell Howl had him cook up, justifying it as a reward for the day to day insanity of living with Howl. He’s fourteen, heavy pockets about to become much lighter, and isn’t thinking of much at all beyond his vague hankering for cake, perhaps of the red velvet variety.

He pushes open the shop doors, the bell jingling behind him. Cesari’s that day is golden, light slanting from the windows and pooling on its checkered floors. Dust motes flit in and out of them while a dark-haired girl about his age bustles to and fro behind the counter. She stops as soon as the bell sounds, turning to smile at him in welcome. Her cheeks are round and flushed.

“Hullo.” There’s white powder streaking over the side of her face. Michael stares and stares, knowing at best he is being impolite and at worst being creepy, but she pushes some of that dark hair behind her ear and his heart leaps, lodging itself somewhere in his throat. “Welcome to Cesari’s.”

And just like that, suddenly, with no warning, the course of his life changes; Michael feels it down to his bones, with all the resonance of a plucked chord, and he’s thrumming, thrumming, thrumming, all to her eyes and smile and small, clever hands.

Falling in love is a bit like magic, he thinks dizzily. It's something you feel before you ever really understand.

 

* * *

 

  
The trouble with it all is it turns out that the girl at Cesari’s is Lettie Hatter and half the male population of Market Chipping fancies themselves in love with her. This makes talking to her a rather harrowing endeavor.

“DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE CAKE,” Michael shouts, dodging the elbows of lads jostling for enough space to lean casually on the counter.

“WHAT,” Lettie shouts back, up to her elbows in dough.

“A FAVORITE CAKE,” Michael shouts. “OR FLOWER PERHAPS?” Girls like flowers, don’t they? Howl always went out with arm loads of them whenever he was off courting.

“MAY I TAKE YOU OUT LATER, LETTIE, IF YOU PLEASE,” a tall lad to his right shouts over him. Awkward, ungainly Michael takes one look at his square jaw and grimly decides to take up writing sonnets.

“I AM DREADFULLY BUSY BUT CROISSANTS ARE BUY TWO, GET ONE FREE, IF _YOU_ PLEASE,” Lettie shouts, making Micheal smile dreamily. Cheeky and a shrewd business woman too!

His efforts at sonnet writing prove equally disastrous but as he wipes crumbs off them he has to admit the croissants are nothing short of fantastic.

 

* * *

 

A month and a half later and Michael is about ready to give it all up, resigned to being another face in the crowd clamoring for her attention. It’s a Thursday and he’s in Market Chipping on business, delivering a spell to Mister-Something-Or-The-Other. The man of the house isn't home but the lady is and when he is finally out from Misses-Something-Or-The-Other’s clutches the sky is grey and thick with storm clouds. Michael lingers on their step, craning his neck to look at the light drizzle. He sighs and sets off into the wet cobblestone streets, cheeks sore from being pinched.

There is something charged in the air, not the normal buildup of electricity but something magical crackling along his spine, telling him to sit up and pay attention. Michael keeps an eye out as the rain strengthens and is only saved from being a sopping mess by magicking himself. He continues like this until a flash of dark hair catches his eye and then Michael slows, stares, because a few paces ahead is Lettie, stranded under a store awning and frowning out into the rain.

Michael thinks about magic and fated meetings and how he would give anything to make her smile. He approaches but stops short of stepping under the awning, respectfully staying out on the street. “Hello!”

Lettie jerks and looks consideringly at him and then extra consideringly at the sheets of rain bending itself away from him. “Hello,” she says after a long moment. “You’re not wet at all. That's handy.”

“Only a bit of wizardry,” says Michael sheepishly. “Er, I recognize you from Cesari's. I’m Michael.”

“Lettie,” says Lettie. “And _that's_ why you look familiar. You frequent our shop quite a lot.” Even her almost smile is the prettiest he’s ever seen. “I didn't know you were a wizard.”

“I’m in training,” Michael says. “And yes. I quite like your...cakes.” He flushes, wanting the ground to swallow him whole. What an idiot he is!

“Just our cakes?” Lettie asks, something sly in her eyes and mouth. The more he speaks with her the more Michael gets the impression she is someone tremendously clever. “What about our croissants? You bought about five of them the other week.”

“Right, well,” Michael says, ears fairly burning. Oh, he hopes they haven't turned red. He couldn't live with the embarrassment. “I like those too, obviously. I like all manner of confectionaries. And deals on confectionaries. Which your shop provides in spades. Funny, isn’t it, how things work out.”

“Yes,” says Lettie, laughter threading through her voice, and Michael thinks he ought to give Calcifer his heart for safekeeping because he hadn't a need for it now that he knows what Lettie smiling for him looks like. “Funny.” She looks at the rain then him and the rain again, still faintly smiling. “Wizard Michael.”

“Baker Lettie?” Michael says, voice lilting it into a question.

“I’m in training too,” Lettie informs him. “Couple of right apprentices we are. Only bakers aren't as good in a pinch of rain. Could you walk me home? I have no umbrella.”

Michael swallows, nods. Just the other day he was despairing her never knowing his name and now he’s going to walk her home. _Her_. Lettie Hatter. “I’d be delighted to.”

Lettie hesitates only a moment before she steps out from under the awning and joins him on the street. Michael magicks the air around the both of them, causing the rain to bend away from their heads and clothes, and Lettie gives a gasp then laughs, bright and pleased. “Amazing!” she says, grinning. “You’re a proper wizard after all!”

Michael can't fool himself into believing he’ll ever be half the wizard Howl is but the way Lettie looks at him in that moment makes him feel like he might be something truly magical.

 

* * *

 

He walks her home. Lettie kisses his cheek and kisses him soundly on the mouth months later in the store room at Cesari’s after dark. His fifteenth birthday comes and goes. He has a growth spurt and he thinks ruefully of that tall, square jawed youth when he has to stoop to kiss her good night.

“Lettie,” Michael murmurs. His jaw still isn't square but Lettie doesn't seem to mind, stroking it tenderly. “My Lettie.”

“I’m certainly not anyone else’s," Lettie says, something wry in her voice. Her hair is a lighter brown than he thought and she twiddles her thumbs like mad and Michael can sometimes scarcely believe she loves him at all. “But you’re mine too lest you forget!”

“I could never,” Michael says, smiling. “Who else would demand ten children of me?”

“That's how many I want,” Lettie says, looking at him crossly. “I shan’t settle for less!”

“You won't,” Michael says, painfully earnest even if he feels a tad weak at the thought. “You shan’t settle for anything.”

Neither of them do but Michael is aware that has very little to do with him and more to do with how strong minded those of Hatter stock are. Curses break, identities are revealed, and years later into their happy-ever-after he still slips and calls her Lettie. Martha nor any of their children hardly ever miss a beat.

**Author's Note:**

> i've been writing this story in my head all week and i am happy i got it all out in one go!!! michael and martha's journey to happy-ever-after is so cute and interesting imo. i could read novels about the hatter sisters own love stories but i can barely write more than 1k lmao. i hope this version will do and i'd love to hear what you guys think!


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